Mutated Halloween
by Lucinda
Summary: Different costume choices have unexpected consequences. AU at S2 Halloween, each chapter follows a separate character.
1. Mutated Halloween: Xander

author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main characters: Xander,  
  
some appearances by Willow, Buffy and Giles  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS or X-Men comics.  
  
distribution: Twisting, IneedAParrot, XanderZone, Paula, anyone else please ask.  
  
note: AU season 2 Halloween - differnt costumes which lead to things being utterly different.  
  
  
  
  
  
Halloween was almost here, and Xander couldn't help feeling a bit excited. Granted, he wouldn't be one of the people out angling for candy, but... it was almost as good to be 'drafted' into leading a group of kids around to get the candy. It even gave him an excuse to dress up in a costume, which had always been him and Jesse's favorite part of the whole year. They'd even managed to coordinate things and hit two or even three different towns trick-or-treating nights on most years, thus multiplying their candy. It was great.  
  
It would never be the same again. Jesse would never join him for a night of costumes and laughter again. Halloween would never be the same again.  
  
But at least... costumes, even if his was on a budget. A rather small, tight budget. Opening the doors of the new shop that had opened just in time for the Halloween costume rush, Xander sauntered inside. Buffy and Willow were two of the many people inside. Buffy held Willow's arm with one hand, and the other was lifting a bit of sleek dark leather. A moment's puzzlement added one more detail and the realization that the leather was a little tiny black miniskirt. And Willow looked petrified. Obviously, Buffy was trying to talk his best friend into something frightfully unWillowy, and she looked horrified.  
  
This was something he could fix. He tried for his best worried puppy eyes expression, and beckoned her over to him, safe from Buffy and the little bit of leathery embarrassment waiting to happen. "Hey, Wills. Come here for a moment?"  
  
Her expression as she shook off Buffy's hand and darted over to him was one of releif and gratitude. "Xander!" A quick hug later, she stood beside him, edging around so that he stood between her and Buffy. "What is it?"  
  
Xander gave a little sad smile. "Remember the deal we had with Jesse? About Halloween? I know we couldn't last year, but... I think we could this time. I think I could bear it, without him, you know? Not that it would be a good thing, just... you know... like we haven't entirely forgotten. BUt it was supposed to be all three of us, so you'd have to go along."  
  
"Which means that costume, and not..." She glanced quickly back at Buffy, who was still holding the little skirt, and swallowed nervously. "Sounds good. I even found most of the stuff, although the wig's vanished, and so did a couple other pieces. The uniform's still there except for the gloves..."  
  
"We can go look and see if there's a good wig, after all, Kitty's not a redhead like you." Xander smiled, feeling better already. They'd made a deal to dress as the X-Men that they felt most closely matched their personalities - Xander as Bobby Drake the prankster, Jesse as Warren Worthington the suave playboy that he hoped to be, and Willow as Kitty Pryde, the sort of shy computer genius. They'd spent hours helping Jesse work on a set of wings...  
  
Willow smiled, a bit sadly. "Yeah. It's too bad... but it'll sort of be a memorial thing. And a lot better than Buffy's come as you aren't thing. And we need to look for yellow gloves."  
  
Buffy made her way over as they were looking over rows of styrofoam heads, about half of which still had wigs in varieties of golden and dark, some with curls, some with wild spikes, and others that just fell in straight cascades. Others were glittery, or metallic, or bright anime colors. "What's going on? Willow, I thought you were going to go as you aren't?"  
  
"No, there's been a small change in plan. Xander Jesse and I... we had this deal about what we were going to wear for Halloween... it was supposed to be for last year, but... and it would have hurt to much then. But this year, we think... it's sort of in honor of Jesse. And still going as... not me." Willow glanced at Buffy. "And weren't you planning to find... oh..." Her eyes had moved, now staring at something behind Buffy.  
  
"What? 'ohhh' what?" Buffy looked curious.  
  
One hand rose, pointing at one of the row of mannequins along the back of the shop, each of which were displaying some more complicated costumes. "That dress... it looks a lot like the one in that book."  
  
Buffy turned, looking at the mannequin, garbed in a long gown in deep rose. There was lace, and ruffles. It looked elegant, incredibly expensive, and like something out of a nauseatingly historical chick flick. Buffy moved towards it, an expression nearing rapture on her face. "Oh, wow. This is just... perfect. Wouldn't he just flip to see me in this?"  
  
Xander sighed, certain that Buffy was talking about Angel again. That walking corpse that she seemed to find so fascinating. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"  
  
Willow elbowed him in the ribs, and whispered fiercely at him. "Don't. Just let her worry about that dress. If she's busy with that, then she won't be trying to worry about what we're going to wear."  
  
The light of understanding dawned, and Xander made a soft 'ahhhh. Smiling at Willow, he nodded. "Good point. But I don't see any good wigs that would look right. Maybe you'll just have to suck it up and go as Jean instead? I mean, she's a redhead, you're a redhead... and if there's a mask, nobody has to know it's really you."  
  
Shifting nervously, Willow considered it. "I suppose so... but I need a mask, and the gloves, and we can look and see if there's better belts. After all, Jean's mask is entirely different than Kitty's."  
  
"Hey, this means we'll be part of the original team, but.. well, better costumes." Xander teased her just a little as they stated sorting through the bin filled with packages of gloves of all sorts. There were 'velvet' evening gloves in all colors, lace gloves, rubber gloves with claws, and finally, they managed to find each of them a set of suitable yellow gloves. Moving on to the smaller bin filled with belts - leather, chain, 'gypsy coin belts' and sword belts, they sorted, occasionally mocking various rejected items. Finally, they found a pair that would do, all they'd need would be a marker to paint on a large X over the buckle, and it would be perfect.  
  
Willow giggled just a little. "So, maybe we're the original team after they've learned a few things, then? Are we still meeting at Buffy's before we go collect our groups to take trick or treating?"  
  
"Sounds good to me." Xander smiled, pointing her towards the masks as he moved towards the checkout. "I'm just glad we've finally got you out of the ghost-sheets."  
  
Tonight, he wouldn't be Xander Harris, he would be Bobby Drake, the Iceman of the X-Men. Tonight, he'd be a hero.  
  
end part 1.  
  
The costume, purchased last year, fit a bit differently than he remembered. A bit snugger. It wasn't so tight that it was constricting, but it showed a bit more of him that he'd planned, and he felt nervous as he pulled the last touches on. Then, he turned, looking in the mirror with a bit of nervous dread. 'Please God don't let me look like a dork... please...'  
  
He looked surprisingly good. The costume seemed to draw attention to muscles that he hadn't realized that he had, or maybe it was creating them. It wasn't embarrassingly tight, and the blue and yellow didn't look as silly as he'd worried. Grabbing the fake snowball that he'd made the year before, he smiled as he started over towards the Summers house. He made a pretty good Iceman, if he said so himself.  
  
Xander wasn't quite expecting the vision of Buffy that opened the door. The long dress that he'd thought looked so silly on the mannequin looked... wow. Shed even added a dark wig, making the look even better, somehow. "Wow, Buff... Duchess of Buffonia... I swear off spandex forever..."  
  
She smiled, dipping into a bit of a curtsey. "Why thank you, kind sir. But that might be a bit hard for you, considering your costume. And wait until you see Willow... the two of you practically match!"  
  
Xander grinned, stepping into the house. "Well, we're both supposed to be X-Men."  
  
That was when another person made their way down the staircase. Green spandex hugged long legs, with yellow boots and gloves, the yellow X across her chest, and the belt draped over her hips. The green mask obscured her face, but a wild mane of red hair fell down to the middle of her back. Jean Grey stood at the bottom of the stairs. Her arms spread out just a little, and in a surprisingly unconfident voice, a single word emerged. "Well?"  
  
"Jean Grey... you look marvelous." The words slipped out, leaving him smiling.  
  
She just laughed, relaxing as she did. "Thanks, Xander. But the pun... bad pun. I guess we're all ready to go."  
  
"So, you're going as a pair of comic book characters? Was that Xander's idea?" Buffy asked on the way to the school.  
  
"Jesse's, actually. I didn't think we'd be able to pull it off, and Xander almost couldn't decide who he wanted to be…" Willow sighed. "They're actually pretty good comics, or at least, they used to be. I haven't read any in a long time."  
  
At the school, they were each assigned a group of children, with careful warnings to be certain the kids were safe, and didn't run out in front of any cars. Surveying the pair of goblins, the small werewolf, a ghost, a vampire, and a football player, Xander grinned. "Alright, here's the plan. We're going to go towards the business district. I've got a few tips for maximizing you candy hauls…."  
  
Tonight would definitely be a night to remember.  
  
They had just finished the south side of Mulberry Street when it happened. There was something, not precisely a chill, but like... like a shiver moving through the air, and it almost seemed to get stuck along his spine. For a moment, he felt dizzy, as if the world was spinning, and he was afraid that he was going to throw up. Everything went dark.  
  
End part 2.  
  
Bobby Drake blinked, trying to figure out how he'd ended up on the ground. Something was growling, and he jumped to his feet, trying to figure out what was going on right now. He was a bit fuzzy about where he was, or why he was here… Kids in Halloween costumes were everywhere. Only… the goblin wasn't a costume. A small green figure was stuffing candy into his mouth, growling at the football player who was staring at him.  
  
Okay, mutants for trick-or-treating. He could work with that. Shaking his head, Bobby tried to remember where the rest of the team was. Warren had probably chosen to stay out of this, and Scott… where was everybody anyhow?  
  
Smiling, Bobby tried to prevent any panic or fighting while he wracked his memory for some clue just how he'd ended up here. "Alright, nobody's going to take your candy. Let's just stay calm, and…"  
  
There was a deep growl from a short distance down the street. Standing there was what he could only describe as a monster – tufts of gray hair, a long muzzle full of sharp and crooked fangs, beedy dark eyes… It looked dangerous, and hungry. It took a step closer to the kids, still growling.  
  
Screaming, the kids scattered, a couple trying to hide behind Bobby, while others just darted off down the street. The creature lunged, dark claws outstretched.  
  
Bobby concentrated, and the thing was suddenly encased in ice, falling to the ground with a thud. "That is not good. Kids! We'd best get you to somewhere safe, just in case there's any more of those things around here…"  
  
Pressing his team communicator, Bobby whispered "Where are you? Come on, this isn't funny! Scott? Hank? Jean? Can someone help figure out what's going on here?"  
  
"Bobby! Thank goodness that you're alright." Jean's voice sounded just a little tinny from the communicator, but it was the most welcome thing he'd heard all night.   
  
"Jean, you sound a bit flustered." Bobby didn't like that idea. Jean was one of the most confident of them, having been the Professor's first student. If she was sounding flustered, then… Maybe that thing had friends. "Did you get attacked by a hairy gray thing with sharp teeth?"  
  
"Worse. There's so much confusion and panic here… Bobby, there's something seriously wrong with this town. We… the groups of trick or treaters that I'm with, we were attacked by a vampire. I don't think that everybody here could possibly be mutants. And I can't find anybody else! I can't find them… it's like they're all completely out of range, which doesn't make sense. Even if they were, the Professor would hear me, and let me know what's going on, and I haven't had any contact with him either!" She sounded partway between flustered and panicked.  
  
Bobby tried to remember if he'd ever heard Jean babbling like that before. "We'll figure it out, Jean. I promise. Then, once we know who's behind it… we'll remind him why people don't mess with the X-men."  
  
"First, we have to minimize the amount of people hurt tonight. Vampires… monsters… I'm just glad there's been no sign of Magneto." Jean's voice sounded worried. "This is going to be a long night, Bobby."  
  
Looking around the street, Bobby noticed that there were frightened kids and little monsters everywhere. With a sinking feeling, he realized that Jean was right. This was going to be a very, very long night indeed.  
  
End part 3.  
  
Waking up, everything hurt. Xander groaned, reaching up to touch his aching head. He felt like he had bruises everywhere, his ice and snow armor having been insufficient to stop everything… Eyes popping open, Xander froze. Ice and snow armor? Frantically, he tried to remember last night, and a noise that sounded remarkably like a whimper emerged as he remembered BEING Bobby Drake. Being confused as hell about the demons and vampires, spending the whole night working frantically with Jean trying to keep the kids from being eaten, fighting vampires and things that he had no name for. Things that Bobby had no name for anyhow, Xander could name some of those demons.  
  
He'd turned into his costume. So had Willow, making an excellent Jean. Did that mean that Buffy…? Panicked, Xander staggered to his feet, blinking as he realized that he was in the Bronze, still dressed in his X-Men uniform, which didn't look quite the same as it had yesterday afternoon. The communicator was still pinned to his shoulder, the gloves still felt like supple leather…  
  
He concentrated, and a snowball formed in his hand. For just a moment, he grinned, amazed and delighted. The first time that he'd ever done that, he'd thrown it at Scott for being so uptight all the time… Except that he wasn't Bobby Drake, he was Xander Harris. But he could remember both lives. And had just made a snowball form in his hand.  
  
He had to talk to Giles, had to find out what had happened to everybody. Was Buffy alright? Was Willow okay? He remembered that once upon a time, the character of Jean had been put in a mental institute for hearing voices… Xander burst into a run, making his way towards the High School. He pulled the mask off, feeling a bit constricted by it, tucking it into his belt. It didn't matter if someone figured out he'd dressed as a comic book character…  
  
He burst into the library, his worry almost suffocating when he got a look at what was happening. Buffy was there, her dress torn, a bruise around one eye, her arms covered in bruises and small cuts. Giles was dabbing at them with what was probably disinfectant.  
  
"Well, I'm guessing that you already know last night was just to weird for words. Are you… mostly okay, Buffy?" Xander hoped that she was, hoped that nothing terrible had happened to the ennobled Lady Buffy. "Maybe you should have gone as Xena or something."  
  
"Very funny. I got assaulted by a pirate… I think it was Larry, and imagine my surprise when I actually didn't just push him away, but he ended up slammed into a wall? I spent the whole night freaking out because the world had gone crazy, nobody was dressed normally, and there were monsters everywhere. Then Angel showed up, and I wigged out on him, and he… he knocked me out. Remind me to get him for that later, but then he brought me here, and Giles was trying to keep me from hysterics and trying to figure out what happened…" Buffy shuddered.  
  
"People got turned into their costumes. Not everyone, just… some people. I think some of the monsters were people that turned into their costumes as well… umm… hope that guy gets his teeth back…" Xander shook his head. "Was that a hellmouthy Halloween trick, or was someone making with big spooky magic?"  
  
"I think it was most likely some sort of spell, but I can't figure out who or why without knowing more than the fact that people were becoming their costumes." Giles sighed, looking exhausted and frustrated.  
  
"I know that Buffy got her dress at that new place. It was called.. umm… what was the name again?" Xander frowned, trying to remember one tiny detail that had seemed so insignificant from a few days back.  
  
"He was British. He even talked sort of like you do, Giles. He gave me a really good price on the dress, said something about how he really wanted it to be worn last night." Buffy sighed, looking dismayed.  
  
"That's it, it was called Ethan's." Xander smiled, glad that those memory drills the Professor had given him… given Bobby were paying off. "But… I'm me today, so what happened? Did the spell just…wear off?"  
  
"Magic can be extraordinarily complicated, Xander. I think we need a bit more information before I can answer that one. Perhaps if you and Buffy could look through a few books, I can go pay a visit to that shop. Ethan's, you said? If it's actually him…" Giles scowled, suddenly looking a lot less like a librarian and more like someone dangerous.  
  
Buffy just watched as Giles stalked out of the library. "Wow… he's all cranky. I can still remember… hey, cool! Proper ladies could speak French, and I think I still remember it! I might pass that next test after all. And waltzing, that's something at least."  
  
"You got attacked by Larry the Pirate, your dress is ruined, but now you can speak French, so all is good?" Xander blinked, trying yet again to understand Buffy and the way her mind worked.  
  
With a tiny smile, she looked at him, before speaking in cultured French. "A obtenu de trouver quelque chose de bon, droit ?"  
  
"Okay, you speak French. Do you remember things? I mean, specific type things?" Xander slowly moved to one of the chairs, sitting down carefully. "And on memory, do you know where Giles keeps painkillers? I have bruises… lots of bruises."  
  
"Not quite. It's pretty vague. Maybe it's because I wasn't someone specific, just a sort of generic noblewoman?" Buffy sighed. "So, what happened to Willow? Is she… did she get turned into her costume as well?"  
  
For a moment, Xander smiled, remembering the careful coordination between the two of them as he and Jean – no, him and Willow, had fought so many things. "Yeah. I hope that she's alright…"  
  
Reaching over, he activated his communicator. "Je…Willow? Are you there? Talk to me, bestest bud."  
  
A voice came through, tinny, and slightly muzzy. "I'm here… ohhh… my head's killing me… hopefully not literally. I'm Willowy again, just… What happened anyhow?"  
  
"Giles thinks it was some sort of magic spell, by that guy at the costume shop. I'm trying to figure out why someone would do that. What would the benefit be?" Xander shook his head, still baffled. "Buffy's with me at the library, some bruises, scrapes, but mostly okay. How about you?"  
  
"I've been better. You said Buffy was… wait, how many other people got hurt last night? Why don't I… I'll try to get some information, and then I'll get back to you. Let's just check the hospital and police records fro last night…" Her voice faded, as if she was already on her way to do something.  
  
For a moment, Xander wondered if Willow remembered being Jean the way he remembered being Bobby. If his best friend was now a mutant telepath-telekinetic. Surely she'd let him know if she was, right? Time to look at the books…  
  
end part 4.  
  
Giles came back at almost the same time as Willow arrived. She'd stopped at some at some point, changing into a pair of jeans and a fuzzy orange sweater, her hair still loose and looking… remarkably like the sort of perfect, voluminous hair from a comic book. She had a stack of paper in one hand, and a fierce scowl on her face. Giles had a similar unhappy expression.  
  
"I'm going to guess that there was something not good?" Buffy looked at the two of them. "What did you find at the shop, Giles?"  
  
"It was Ethan alright. Ethan bloody Rayne, up to his old tricks again. He invoked Janus, and there is… some chance of lingering effects." Giles sounded seriously annoyed.  
  
"His spell did have serious effects." Willow sounded almost too calm. She made her way to the table, carefully placing the pares on it's surface. "There were almost a dozen bodies found, suffering blood loss and serious trauma, I'm guessing from people who included 'fake' wounds on their costumes. Three times the normal nightly count of exsanguinated bodies, and close to three dozen people who were hospitalized from being attacked by what got listed as wild animals. And that's without any idea of the possibility of lingering effects of say… someone dressing as a werewolf."  
  
Xander looked at her, wondering if he dared ask about the aftereffects of someone dressing as a mutant. If she knew, if she could guess.  
  
There seem to be side effects. I just don't know how long they'll last, and it's freaky-weird-scary. It was Willow's voice, but her lips weren't moving.  
  
Xander blinked, looking at his friend. She'd answered him… without her lips moving. Guess she had the telepathy, just like he had the ice. Now what did they do about it?   
  
Good question. Maybe we should see if anyone else has weird new abilities? Her words again, carrying the weight of worry.  
  
"I guess we'll have to work on damage control. Life's just… full of surprises. I thought you said a quiet Halloween, Giles? Xander looked over, trying not to be angry or depressed.  
  
"Indeed. Damage control… I shudder to think of some of the possibilities if there are after-effects." Giles shook his head, and went into his office.  
  
Walking over to the still open first aid kit, Willow grabbed the pain-killers. "Anyone else want some?"  
  
After a round of extra strength Tylenol for everyone, they began trying to figure out what all had happened, and how to fix it. They were all certain that this went beyond a question of people killed, or memories that could prove traumatic, as Buffy kept muttering she'd ended up with. Xander couldn't help but worry about the lingering, subtle effects. What about the kids who'd gone as werewolves? Would they grow fur and fangs at the next full moon? Would there be people who'd dressed as cops or firefighters or felons who became those things? Was that any harder to believe than the idea that dressing as a mutant had apparently turned him into one?  
  
"This headache is going to spawn a lot more headaches later." Xander muttered, still trying to understand how a spell had caused such powerful changes.  
  
"Indeed. The injuries, the upsetting memories… and the lingering question about the potential lycanthropes." Giles paused, and then turned towards Willow. "Were there any bodies… staked? Perhaps from people who became vampire hunters?"  
  
"Well… I don't think there were any reports of it, but the coroner's computers weren't accessible, so I can't be certain. It's always possible that… that people who became vampires and were killed… sort of became dust, since they were vampires at the time. Buffy's injuries from when she was the Lady Buffy are still there, Xander and I still have bruises, so… wouldn't people killed still be dead?" Willow frowned, looking unhappy.  
  
"Cheerful." Buffy's flat sarcasm didn't really help anyone's mood. She crossed her arms, sighing in her seat. "Do we have any solid answers?"  
  
"Not enough." Giles sighed, rubbing his temple.  
  
Willow passed the bottle of Tylenol over to Giles, flipping another page. "Might as well keep looking. Glaring at Giles or Ethan, if he were here, which he isn't, won't give us any answers."  
  
Xander wasn't certain that they would be able to find the answers they needed in any books. He had the feeling that this would be a whole new mess, new problems. But they would be able to try to deal with it – they had no other choice.  
  
End part 5.  
  
End Mutated Halloween.  
  
foonote: in case anyone didn't see why Xander saying that 'Jean' looked marvelous was a bad pun, the original codename of Jean Grey when the character was first created was 'Marvel Girl', and the X-Men titles belong to Marvel Comics. 


	2. Back in the Saddle: Percy

Back in the Saddle: a story of Mutated Halloween  
  
author: Lucinda  
  
rating: pg13  
  
main character: Percy West  
  
disclaimer: I own nobody from BtVS or the Lone Ranger.  
  
distribution: Twisting, Paula, anyone else please ask.  
  
note: AU season 2 Halloween - different costumes which lead to things being utterly different.  
  
note 2: What about some of the other costumes that people picked up from Ethan's?  
  
  
  
  
  
Percy sighed in apparent frustration, listening as the coach went on about how a good team needed more than just lots of practice and teamwork, they needed the support of their community. He droned on about building this support through community involvement. Percy let his mind wander, thinking about the weekend. There was supposed to be a pretty good Halloween party at this converted warehouse that looked like it had been a club. Devon was organizing it, so it should be decent enough, with music, food, chicks... the works.  
  
"... which is why you're going to be chaperoning groups of trick or treaters on Friday." Coach concluded his speech, nodding slightly.  
  
Blinking, he tried to figure out a way to protest, to insist that he'd rather be at a party on Friday than walking all over town with a bunch of little kids. The desire to protest warred with his desire not to be kicked off the team. What finally came out was "Escorting trick or treaters? Does that mean... costumes?"  
  
"Yes it does, Percy. You're all expected here at six o'clock, in costume to escort the kids around town. Make certain they won't be complaining about the costumes to moms and dads, alright, Donner?" There was a bit of pointed focus on Mike Donner, who'd already been suspended from school on two occasions for streaking.  
  
Where in the hell was he supposed to get a decent costume now? This was Tuesday, Halloween was Friday, wouldn't everything be sold out by now? He knew that Partytown would be picked over, the general store's selection sucked from the start... wait, hadn't there been that new place? Something that was a name, there's been costumes in the window. It looked like that would be his only hope. "Guess I'd better find a costume."  
  
After school, Percy dropped his homework off at the empty house, making a note to work on the math later, to read the biology. He had to find a costume. When he made his way to the shop, having parked a block and a half away, he saw that it was pretty crowded, with some of the other people from school, and parents with their kids, still hunting for the last bit of the perfect costume. Weaving his way through the crowds, he started looking at the adult costumes for something decent. He didn't want to dress as a professional athlete, God knew he was in sports wear often enough anyhow. He didn't want to wear some cheesy demon or ghost suit, especially not something with one of those big rubber masks that you could never see right out of. That pretty much ruled out most of the packaged costumes, and the matter of finding something in the right size ruled out the rest. It looked like he'd have to put something together, to be creative with the assorted spare bits and pieces that were scattered around in bins.  
  
Searching, he found a nice looking gun belt, black with silver accenting, the sort of thing that a cowboy would wear to hold his six shooters. There was a whole rack of assorted plastic and wooden weaponry, from throwing stars and sais to swords and clubs and knives and all sorts of guns. He could feel the picture starting to form: a cowboy, maybe some rugged outlaw? He grabbed a pair of six shooters with white inlay on the handles, thinking they'd work nicely. But he'd need a hat to pull it off, and the right sort of shirt. He found a gray shirt, feeling like it was the sort of supple softness that would be really comfortable, and a red bandana. Trying not to look too excited, he moved over to the rows of hats.  
  
There was a white hat that had been knocked to the floor, with a small black eye mask half hidden underneath it.  
  
Percy blinked, feeling his fuzzy mental picture shift, crystallizing into perfect focus. Oh God, yes, that would be great. He picked up the mask, tossing the too small hat back on the pile, searching for one the right size. Put those together with some leather gloves, and his costume would be perfect, and not even embarrassing to be seen publicly wearing. Even better, it might score a few points for coolness with the girls, and the kids moms would be happy.  
  
He felt pretty good about his purchases as he left Ethan's. Halloween might not be too bad after all.  
  
end part 1.  
  
By Friday, he'd found everything that he needed to complete the look, or at least as complete as it would get for a guy going as a cowboy without a horse. The pants were a pair of worn and faded jeans, and he'd even found a pair of boots that would go well. There had also been some practice with the bandana, so that it wouldn't look dumb.  
  
He was feeling pretty confident as he arrived at the school, sauntering along in his costume, feeling pretty glad that the eye mask was cloth, and therefore less likely to slip than a plastic one. Buffy Summers was looking fantabulous in this long pinkish dress, and he could see some of the rest of the team, dressed as pirates or cops or monsters, and one guy dressed as a Klingon.  
  
"Hey, Percy. What are you supposed to be, Billy the Kid?" Mike joked.  
  
"Like you have room to talk… You're going as a clown." Percy shook his head, wondering if anyone actually recognized his outfit.  
  
"Stupid…" Larry the pirate swatted at Mike's head, grinning. "He's the Lone Ranger."  
  
Percy grinned, feeling a little better that someone knew who he was supposed to be. He'd still rather be at Devon's party, but since he had to be here, he might as well go for it. "I couldn't find Tonto, so I'm without my faithful Indian sidekick for the night."  
  
Larry shrugged. "Tonto's probably off at Devon's party."  
  
"Yeah. And here we are, making sure the little kids are safe to go trick-or-treating." Percy shrugged, thinking that maybe it wouldn't be too bad. He might as well try to enjoy this, since it wasn't an option. And maybe he could still go to the party after the trick-or-treating was over.  
  
Percy made his way over towards Principal Snyder, who was not in costume. There were swarms of little kids in all sorts of costumes, some with their parents, others just sort of hanging around. "I'm supposed to be a chaperone?"  
  
"Ah, Percy West." With a small frown, the Principal looked over his costume, giving a little sniff. "A good, safe costume. These are your charges, make certain they all come back safely."  
  
He found himself with a group, consisting of a little witch in a pointy black hat, a short superman, a Stormtrooper, a US Army soldier, a ghost, the Riddler, and a ballerina. Hopefully, they didn't all try to scatter, he was definitely outnumbered, and the experience that he had with kids was pretty much… nothing. "Right… stay with me, and remember to look both ways before crossing the street. Now, let's go get some candy."  
  
Percy felt a bit weird as he started out along the streets, a line of kids following after him. Sort of like a duck and a row of little ducklings… At least if anyone tried to yank his chain about this, he could say the Coach didn't give him an option. And it might not be too bad, not that he'd have to admit that to anybody.  
  
As things got started, he realized that this wasn't so bad after all. Some of the houses even had come pretty women or cute girls handing out the candy, although the number of old ladies to cute ones as a bit high. Got to look for the bright side, right? They'd just left a little nest of duplexes when something weird happened. There was this ripple in the air, and then he felt really sick and dizzy. As Percy West collapsed, he was dimly aware of the kids making a fuss over something. He tried to open his mouth to ask what was wrong, but everything went dark.  
  
end part 2  
  
It was the noise that roused him. He could hear people screaming, and something growling, and the sound of feet shuffling on stone. Slowly, he sat up, touching the sore spot where his head had apparently hit the ground. Looking around, he tried to figure out where he was, and what was going on.  
  
"Now this is a perplexing situation." The educated accent sounded oddly out of place, the voice sounding like a child of perhaps eight. He looked very solemn in his green suit, leaning slightly on a cane topped with a gleaming golden question mark, a small mask covering his eyes. "One minute I'm in Gotham, and now… well, this certainly isn't Gotham City."  
  
"This must be some sort of training exercise." The crisp words had an odd tone to them, something he couldn't quite identify. The speaker was another small figure, in some sort of odd white outfit that looked to have bulky plates over some dark fabric, and some sort of strange rifle unlike anything that he'd ever seen before.  
  
There were also several children dressed in very strange outfits, looking absolutely terrified as they stood on the very smooth stone of the lines walk. A strange metal thing that bore a passing resemblance to a coach roared past, leaving a strange odor in it's wake. In the distance, something that was not a wolf or a coyote howled. There was definitely something strange going on here.  
  
"Where is this place?" The question emerged, a faint hope that with the name would come some memory to explain why he was here.  
  
A little boy in a strange red and blue outfit with a red cape looked at him, his eyes wide and frightened. "This is Sunnydale, in California. It's Halloween…"  
  
"Something's very wrong." That came from a small child under a sheet, who then pulled the sheet away, revealing a much more normal outfit of pants and a long sleeved pale shirt, although the brown braid was a bit unexpected. Weren't little girls supposed to wear dresses? "Something's very wrong and dangerous. I'm scared."  
  
"Civilians do not belong in the middle of a training exercise. There must be some safe point where they'll be safe for now, until an official investigation can explain their presence." The person in the white outfit spoke again, lifting the strange rifle in a confident manner.  
  
"California is one of the Spanish territories, there should be a mission somewhere nearby. Those are fairly defensible, and should be a safer than the street." Possibly the priest would be able to explain this… it was almost enough to make him believe in evil spirits.  
  
The group started down the street, following the little girl that had been wearing a sheet towards the nearest church. The child in the suit kept muttering riddles to himself, but quietly, so as not to disturb the others. The little ballerina was crying now, large tears and ragged sobs that tore at his heart.  
  
There was a loud snarl, and a large hairy shape was running towards them. It wasn't broad enough to be a bear, and was moving on two feet like a man, but there were these sharp teeth… The white clad small soldier dropped to his knee, firing the strange looking rifle. A flash of red light shot forth, striking the shoulder of the hairy thing, which roared and kept coming. The man in the mask pulled his own guns, firing a shot from each at the creature, both shots hitting the chest of the thing. It fell to the ground, no longer moving.  
  
Maybe there was something to Tonto's belief that silver bullets would be better than lead.  
  
"I think you're right, little girl. There is something very wrong and very dangerous going on here." His voice didn't shake as he reholstered his guns, but he could feel the urge to shake, to tremble in his muscles. He swallowed, acknowledging the taste of fear. "We should get to the church as soon as possible."  
  
The masked man wasn't surprised to find the church already had a good number of people inside, frightened, uncertain and every single one of them strangely dressed. Nobody seemed to know what was happening or why. The frightened children gratefully took seats among the pews, as did the now quiet child in the suit.  
  
"There are no blaster shields, and the walls are simple wood and stone… hardly durable against serious attack." The small soldier in the odd helmet spoke again, his voice filled with dismay. "Someone must stay and keep the civilians safe."  
  
"Isn't that the job of a soldier? To keep the citizens safe and protected?" He spoke to the small soldier, his voice soft as he remembered another time, another life. Before he wore the mask, before his bullets were silver.  
  
The small soldier nodded, the strange helmet rendering his face unseen, unreadable, the visor giving an ominous cast to him. "I can't keep the entire church covered. There are too many directions."  
  
"I will stay as well, and perhaps between the two of us…" He volunteered, knowing that he couldn't turn away from people in distress. That was what he did, after all, he helped people.  
  
The night stretched long, with more monsters coming to the church Some of them fled at the signs of resistance, others had to be chased away by fire, either from his own silver bullets or from the shots from the strange weapon of the small soldier, something called a Blaster Rifle. One attacker, with yellow eyes and sharp fangs just crumbled to dust after being hit by the blaster.  
  
A vampire. That had been a vampire. If vampires were real… how many other legends? Skin-walkers? Demons? Witches? No, surely not everything could be real, there had to be a limit, didn't there? He promised himself that if he survived the night, he would try to learn more about vampires, about what other monsters of myth might not be so mythical.  
  
If he lived through the night.  
  
End part 3.  
  
Percy blinked, wondering why he was leaning against the inner door of a church. He felt horrible, bruised and stiff, and tired, as if he had stayed up all night playing football without the protective pads. There were grass stains on his clothing, and places where it looked as if something with claws had ripped at his arm. There were makeshift bandages that had a small pumpkin print wrapped around them, and he could feel a bruise on his eye. His hands felt cramped as he held the plastic six shooters.  
  
What had happened last night?  
  
Slowly, bits of memory flickered, images of monsters, of frightened kids in costumes, of a Stormtrooper with a real blaster-rifle. Something that looked like a werewolf had been attacking, and he'd shot it. He'd… he'd really thought that he was. The Lone Ranger, and… and the guns had been real, had really shot bullets. People had changed, had become what there had dressed as, or at least some of them had.   
  
Lurching a bit, Percy staggered into the church, putting away the plastic guns, taking the hat from his head. He left the mask on, not feeling quite right about removing it. People were asleep all through the church, curled or stretched on the pews. Slowly, the priest moved among them, muttering prayers as he did. Percy just wasn't certain if they were prayers for the safety of the people here, or for explanations.  
  
"I think… I think it's over now. Whatever it was." He spoke slowly, his tongue feeling thick and heavy in his mouth. "The sun is up, and it should be… safer."  
  
He couldn't quite stop the next words that came from his mouth, they just felt right. "My work here is done, and now I must go."  
  
Walking down the street, he felt the strangest urge to call out 'Hi-yo Silver, Away!', but since he didn't have a horse named silver, that would have been rather pointless. And it would have looked stupid.  
  
He didn't catch the soft question of the priest. "Who was that masked man?"  
  
Percy West made his way home, letting himself into the quiet house. His parents weren't home, having gone out of town for something or other. A visit to his aunt and uncle in Washington, maybe? But for once, that might be a good thing. For once, he didn't have to worry about how to explain coming home past curfew. Considering the fact that he didn't understand what had happened, he was glad that he wouldn't have to try to explain. The closest that he would be able to come up with was 'Last night, people suddenly turned into their costumes, and I had to help a Stormtrooper protect a church full of people from monsters.' Like anybody would believe that.  
  
Maybe it would be best to not speak of this again. Ever. After all, if it sounded crazy to him after he'd lived it, how much worse would it sound to someone else? He could get kicked off the team, locked up in a nut-house. The whole mess just seemed so crazy… but it had happened, he remembered everything, and he had the bruises and the slashes on his arm to prove it.  
  
He was just certain that he'd never be able to forget that. It was too strange. Especially the part where he didn't just remember being the Lone Ranger last night, he remembered the whole life of the man who had eventually become the Lone Ranger. Remembered his childhood, his life, his near death and rescue by Tonto, remembered riding around helping people… Except that the Lone Ranger wasn't real, was just a television character, right? So how could he have become him, how could he remember him like that?  
  
He had the oddest feeling that if he had a real revolver, he would still have the crack-shot accuracy of the man in the mask, would still be able to ride a horse, still track someone across the desert. He could remember the words in Spanish, and the language of Tonto's tribe.  
  
Percy stripped his clothing off, letting it fall to the floor in a trail to his bed. He ached, and was far too tired to think about this, about what it would mean. Right now, he just wanted to sleep. Tomorrow would be soon enough to think about it.  
  
End Back in the Saddle: a tale of Mutated Halloween. 


	3. Landing on her Feet: Cordelia

Author: Lucinda

Rated t for teen

third installment of Mutated Halloween

Disclaimer: anyone you recognize does not belong to me, though I may not be able to give all the legal who's that do own them.

Distribution: by permission - if you have permission for installments 1 or 2 you have permission for this one.

Notes: What if some of the costumes worn on Ethan's Halloween were not as Joss showed us? What if others were affected, what if the spell was not so easily broken?

Cordelia Chase returned to her home, thinking that this weekend should be decent enough. She'd gone to PartyTown to rent a costume, and had an invitation to what should be an excellent party, considering that Devon was obsessed with his image. So long as she avoided any lame school functions or horrible Halloween tricks, things should be as good as they got in this wretched town.

There was a blue BMW in the driveway. That car meant that her aunt Marlene was here... if she was unlucky, so were her cousins Josie and Nathan. Both of them were pretentious, spoiled twits who were certain that the world owed them whatever they wanted because they were rich.

She walked into the house, seeing her mother and Aunt Marlene sitting at the couch, with Aunt Marlene in some sort of white almost toga with a crown of silver leaves on her head. Her own mother was dressed in this rose colored long dress with a corset, cut rather low for a woman of Emmaline Chase's age and sensibilities.

"Cordelia, darling, say hello to aunt Marlene. She's invited me to go with them to a Halloween party," Her mother's bright smile suggested that this might not be her first glass of liquid relaxation.

"We'd ask if you wanted to come along, but you are still in high school," Aunt Marlene trilled, one hand waving through the air in a dismissive gesture. "I'm fairly certain that there will be drinking, and you shouldn't be exposed to such things."

"Where did you pick up that dress, mom? It's not what I'd expected," Cordelia asked, trying to find a way not to scream that Josie had best not be here.

Both of them laughed, which Cordelia had learned was not a good sign.

"Oh, we went to this cute little shop in town..." her mother answered.

Aunt Marlene chuckled, "Yes, Emmaline nearly ripped this dress out of the hands of some little blond. It was quite amusing, but I doubt the girl could have afforded it anyhow."

"Ahh," Cordelia nodded, convinced yet again that Aunt Marlene was a bad influence.

"Dear cousin Delia," Josie's unwelcome voice proceeded her down the staircase. "Too bad you're not old enough to go with us to the party. It's going to be brilliant."

Looking over, Cordelia frowned at the costume that her cousin was wearing. Fishnet tights, ankle high boots with four inch heels, a laced together fake leather dress in black, a black leather choker with silver spikes, tacky fingerless gloves that showed of what she truly hoped were awful fake nails, whiskers drawn over her cheeks with eyeliner, a knee length fake tail... and the headband with the spotted cat ears that went with Cordelia's costume. The costume that was supposed to be in a box in her closet in her room. The outfit managed all at once to be slutty, tacky, dated, and evidence that Josie had pillaged Cordelia's room... again.

Years of previous experience had taught Cordelia that her mother wouldn't care that Josie had invaded Cordelia's room and thrown things all over. Or that she might have ruined something. Or that this meant Cordelia wouldn't have the cat ears for her costume. Or that Josie would probably ruin them meaning that the costume couldn't be entirely returned. And that complaining about Josie would be worse than useless.

It was probably Josie's whole plan. The bitch.

Cordelia gave a small shrug, and moved towards the stairs, intending to go see the damage and figure out if her costume could be salvaged. "Enjoy the drunken frat boys."

Up the stairs, down the hall and around the corner before she permitted herself to scowl. Down the hall and into her room, shutting the door behind her and looking at the room. Clothing scattered on and near the bed, having been tossed from the closet. The cat costume, thrown about near the dresser. Shoes scattered in the closet, having fallen from the organizer on the back of the closet door. Her make-up kit open, with individual compacts dropped to the dresser and the floor, along with two lipsticks and several eyeliners, one of them broken.

Cordelia sighed, whispering, "I hate her."

After picking up her make-up, putting the shoes back in the organizer and getting no closer to figuring out if they'd fallen from Josie flailing the door about or been thrown to the floor out of spite that they wouldn't fit Josie's feet - either quite possible - Cordelia sorted out the pieces of her costume. The tail was gone. The headband with the ears was on Josie's head... so she likely had the tail as well. That just left the spotted leotard and tights, as well as the cat printed gloves and the page with the make-up suggestions... though the little make-up kit that had been included had vanished. "Damn her."

Cordelia started hanging up the clean clothing, trying to determine if it would be best to salvage the costume or try to find something new... knowing that there would be nothing worth renting at PartyTown. She'd have to go to some other place either way. Regardless, the cat costume would be ruined, and it wasn't Cordelia's fault.

They'd probably left, so there was no reason that Cordelia couldn't go now to see what sort of salvage efforts she could buy. Since PartyTown was already picked over, she might as well check out that new place, Ethan's...

end part 1.

Thirty minutes later, Cordelia Chase made her way into Ethan's, looking over the aisles and shelves. Things had already been picked over rather effectively, though at least this shop was making obvious efforts to prevent things from being tossed onto the floor and trampled. There looked to be quite the range, from the dull and lame football jerseys and ghost sheets to elaborate outfits like the pink gown that her mother had claimed.

She decided to meander through the more elaborate and expensive costumes that remained, just for idle curiosity. There was a very impressive set of armor, complete with a sword that came to her shoulders and a shield painted with a red lion. The famous Scarlett O'Harra green gown. What looked an awful lot like a Roman Centurion's uniform. An elaborate gown with a ruffle around the neck, done up in mostly red velvet, patterned with hearts. Some sort of science-fiction battle suit done up with scuffs, dents, and scratched numbers and symbols painted along parts of the plating, though she wasn't enough of a nerd to be able to identify the origin of the armor. A full Klingon costume complete with the metallic sash, the weapons, and a wig with forehead ridges. A beautifully decorated but rather risqué outfit that looked like a collection of ivy leaves. A very professional and revolting looking zombie costume, complete with applications for festering wounds and popped decaying eyeball – detailed but gross.

But she'd already splurged for an elaborate costume. The fact that Josie had tried to ruin it wouldn't make Daddy more forgiving when the bills came in.

Shaking her head, Cordelia made her way towards the aisle for make-up and other separate pieces of costuming. The place where there would be wigs, fake teeth and nails, headbands with ears or horns or antennae, fake blood and wounds, and all sorts of make-up that would be too garish and too greasy for any other sort of occasion. She did see some other people that she recognized, including Percy West wandering the rows with the less elaborate costumes, looking a bit lost, and Harmony staring at the red dress with the neck ruffle.

The only kitty ears on headbands that they had were the black ones or a set that looked pink. Pink… for the love of God, she'd stay home before going out in pink kitty ears!

Then she saw some of the other fake ears, the ones that went over your real ones, and her mind latched on to an image from the cartoons that she'd deny ever watching. Pointed ear tips over her real ears, and the special sort of sticky gum that held them in place. Some of the make-up in two different yellow and brown, with a bit of the white for added measure… and another one that had a lot of the orange color that she'd need. The smallest fake fangs, though she couldn't quite remember if the character had sharp teeth or not. Regardless, they were cat-people, and she would have a cat costume, there was no reason not to have at least a little point to her teeth… unless she couldn't get the pointy bits to stay in place, of course. As a delightful surprise, they even had colored contact lenses, so she could change her eyes for the night.

She finished up by finding and seizing a nice staff, which she thought she remembered that character using and might be useful against any of Sunnydale's resident scary nightlife. At the last minute, she grabbed two cans of the Halloween hairspray, one in glittery gold and the other in almost white.

After things were rang up and charged to Daddy's credit card, Cordelia smiled. Her costume salvaged for a mere seventy dollars. Life might be tolerable after all, especially since she doubted that she'd be seeing Josie again until noon tomorrow at the earliest.

Naturally, the costume was a bit tricky to get looking right. She ended up cutting little spots from notebook paper, temporarily taping them to her outfit, spraying a bit of the gold hairspray over, and removing the spots to add a bit more spotting and lighten the color of the costume a bit. She managed to get the ears attached, and the teeth, but her hair was still not much like the character's. Which might be helpful for her social standing, actually… She shrugged, and used the makeup to add some spots, and to try to get the look a bit closer. A jacket that Josie had ruined the last time she'd been over made decent arm guards. She ended up just popping a large reddish oval brooch onto the leotard instead of the Insignia, figuring that it would have to do, and she wasn't nearly artistic enough to make one herself.

She had no intention of admitting that she found the perfect boots in her mother's closet.

Close enough to be recognizable to someone who had been a fan. Different enough not to brand herself as a geek and suffer social death. Perfect.

Even after painting on the large orange eye mask, she sighed, wondering what in the world the animators had been thinking. She looked like she should be part of some sort of glam-rock band… and that was probably what she'd tell people if they asked.

She was going to be the sexiest cat in Sunnydale. The cat that geekling fantasies were made of. And she was going to make it look good.

End part 2.

As she drove herself to the party, two things crossed Cordelia's mind. The first, that her license plate of 'Queen C' could almost apply to this character as well as herself. The second – thank God that she hadn't been drafted to escort the little bratling monsters around Sunnydale for Trick or Treating. She'd seen Buffy and Xander both get volunteered by Snyder earlier that day, and had counted herself fortunate for her rather close escape. She'd also heard a rumor that Coach might have volunteered the football players, something about improving their image after Mike Donner had gone streaking again.

She just hoped that Devon's party lived up to the fuss he'd been making about it. Okay, she wasn't too worried about whether or not he'd managed to get beer, let alone any of the harder alcohol. She'd seen far too much of what that could lead a person to doing, and she'd seen a study somewhere that said drinking in excess could cause premature aging. Aging was something that she wanted to avoid, though not at the cost of a permanent sunlight allergy and liquid diet. And she certainly wouldn't be looking for the sort of fragile-minded girl who'd just fall to her knees or her back for guys on the first date. But she liked a party with good music, and she couldn't very well remain one of the social figures of the school if she missed out on the major parties!

She was not so much surprised and appalled as disappointed and resigned that the party didn't seem to be measuring up to Devon's claims just yet. Granted, the converted warehouse looked pretty cool, but the rest of the party was just not quite as advertised. There was a table with refreshments, including a your choice of thickened red fruit punch that was supposed to look like blood, or melting orange sherbet and 7-up that appeared to have been spiked with some sort of alcohol. There were peeled grapes that were supposed to look like eyes, and a bowl of mixed pasta with a light dressing over it that was supposed to look like intestines, and pretzels covered in white chocolate so that they might pass as skinny bones. Very boring and unimaginative.

There was beer. She'd seen a few people holding bottles that might have been other alcohol. Of all the claims about how the party was going to be so great, why did the booze have to be the one that pulled through to happen? Dare she hope that it would cause some people to become amusing, rather than dumber, angry, and pushy? Only time would tell.

Two hours later, Cordelia sighed over her glass of punch. The music was still decent, though there had been the apparently required playing of Thriller, and the Monster Mash, the Ghostbusters theme song, and something about werewolves in London. Most of it had been more recent, some of it even from local bands, though Devon hadn't arranged for one to play the party. Maybe he thought that would be a conflict, since he was in a band, it might look weird to hire someone else's band to play at his party?

Or maybe he just thought another band might steal his spotlight. This was Devon, after all.

The smoke was starting to get on her nerves though. People were smoking through the club, and the smoke had a sharper scent to it, one that hinted that it was only mostly tobacco. There was enough smoke from enough people that it was forming a haze in the air, and Cordelia was certain that the smell would be clinging to her outfit, to her hair, even to her skin. Ick. The sacrifices she made to be popular…

She wasn't that surprised by the girls in too tight clothing flocking around Devon and Rick with big do-me-now eyes. She shook her head at the cheap vinyl Super-Girl, Batgirl, and Wonder Woman costumes, the naughty nurses, the microskirt with the too tight blue shirt and the plastic badge along with a pair of handcuffs looped around a belt and high heels, the fairy costume that revealed just how short Tinkerbell's skirt really was, and what had to be either a harem girl or I Dream of Jeannie… Ah, Maria Bell, not terribly social, didn't seem that bright, and more inclined to watch talk shows and soaps than old shows – harem girl, not Jeannie. Tacky cat-girls, a Playboy Bunny complete with bleached blond hair, a couple cheerleaders. Nothing really surprising. She did see someone dressed as a Star Fleet original series woman, in a red minidress with a single gold band at the cuffs, a couple Morticia Addams types, and a mermaid.

Not that the guys costumes were much better… some pirates, a few zombies, a vampire, some football jerseys. Tinfoil armor and a plastic sword near the punchbowl, Dave Alvarez who played defensive tackle had gone as the Frankenstein creature or maybe Herman Munster. Oh God, someone had come to the party as a NASCAR driver… Superman near the stereo, too scrawny Batman near the kitchen, another Batman dancing with a cheerleader and a naughty nurse, a Wolverine in the blue and yellow talking to Marie the harem girl…

She was a bit surprised to see Harmony in that revealing ivy leaf outfit, with her hair dyed red. The red hair clicked on the memory, allowing Cordelia to place the costume as Poison Ivy, one of the recurring enemies of Batman… Harmony was carrying it off surprisingly well.

Cordelia shook her head, wondering if the smoke was affecting her brain. Why else would she be thinking that Harmony was carrying out something well, on her own? Everyone knew that Harmony wasn't the brightest bulb on the sign, and there were rumors about the extreme measures that she might have taken to pass last year. As she did, she could feel her hair brushing her shoulders, not the normal silken softness, but harsh, coarse and scratchy. It was going to take a while for her hair to recover, between this smoke and all the colored hairspray that she'd used. The smoke also burned at her eyes, or maybe that was the orange contacts… The music was loud, though the speakers were placed well and things balanced enough that the bass didn't warp the songs beyond recognition. Then again, Devon was in a band, and if he couldn't keep the speakers balanced, who'd hire him to play?

She raised the glass of punch to her lips, trying to figure out if this was really the best way to spend her evening. It was better than time with Josie, though with Josie off at the drunken frat party, that wouldn't be an issue Probably better than staying home alone… That was when the world twisted, the colors briefly flashing opposite, the shadows crawling, the sounds doing that funny Doppler ripple thing. It made her feel like there was something crawling inside her head.

This was a bad thing.

End part 3.

The first thing that she did was put down the too sweet cup of fruit juice that smelled like it had started to ferment. She was in a strange place, a room filled with harsh smoke and loud music that sounded like something that the twins would play. She didn't recognize anybody else in the room… Such a strange collection of people they were!

Across the room, a pale man in dark clothing with a red lined cape was hissing at a masked man in yellow and blue. That argument jarred to a halt when the man in yellow and blue shot metal claws from the backs of his hands.

A blond in a tiny green dress was giggling, with shimmering round wings on her back leaving a scattering of sparkles behind her.

A red haired woman garbed in leaves coughed, muttering about needing fresh air before she staggered away from the smoke. Fresh air sounded quite appealing, so Cheetara followed the red head.

It turned out that they were in a city, with fresh air, somewhat backwards technology. She could smell the ocean nearby, with mingled scents of fish and seaweed. Looking up, she blinked, not recognizing any of the constellations. "The stars are wrong… this isn't Thunderra."

Looking around as people in strange costumes wandered along the street, she whispered, "Where am I?"

A growl came from the nearest alley, not quite right to be one of Slythe's mutates.

The man that emerged wasn't a mutate. He wasn't a Thundercat. He looked almost like a human, except for his bumpy forehead, yellow eyes, and sharp teeth. More disturbing, he stank of old blood, death, traces of decay, and evil.

He snarled at her, "Hello tasty. Maybe we can play before dinner…"

Everything about him was revolting. Well, perhaps not the color of his eyes, but the malice, the hunger and cruelty in them made even those hideous. The implications of his words weren't any better… violence, lust, and a raw carnivorous streak. She had no intention of becoming dinner, or of becoming this man's plaything first.

The women of Thunderran noble houses were not raised to be pretty playthings. Rare were the noblewomen lacking some measure of training in the skills of war, though those skills had seldom been needed until Slythe had seized control of the mutates, declaring war against various powers and planets.

Her claws raked across his face, narrowly missing the eyes but leaving a bloody scalp wound that would obstruct his vision. Less than a heartbeat later, she'd kicked him in the stomach, sending him back into the alley.

Certain that any halfway intelligent male would consider that a clear enough of a refusal, she turned to walk away. Maybe there was something that would help her figure out what planet this was and how she'd ended up on it. A spaceport, or a communications hub of some sort…

That same growl from the alley was her first warning that the yellow eyed not-human wasn't a halfway intelligent male. There was also the scuff of his shoes against the compressed stone as he leapt at her.

Fortunately, her line was the favored of the swiftest of cats. She had plenty of time to spin around, bringing her staff to strike against his chest as he lunged. Though she hadn't expected it to slide between his ribs… was he wearing no armor at all?

His body turning to dust was an even bigger surprise.

What sort of strange and horrible place was this?

end part 4.

The biggest problem was a lack of information. She didn't know where she was, how she'd got here, or why she was here. She didn't know what other dangers might be in this place, if there were more people like the yellow eyed man who'd wanted to play with her and eat her, not necessarily in that order. No idea who or what was in charge of this place, or if she'd found herself in some sort of lawless border territory.

This was something that she could work on. A search of the city would reveal what species had the majority presence, and perhaps if they were also the ones in charge. She could find a space-port and figure out where 'here' was, and maybe, just maybe how she'd arrived here. This would be simpler as she was of the House of the Cheetah, and had all the speed that was the birthright of that House. Taking a breath, she darted away, seeking to get a fast overview of this place.

It took very little time for Cheetara to determine that this city had some serious problems. She found an abundance of burial sites, well maintained and sickly sweet with flowers and decaying flowers that had been left on the memorial stones. The names seemed of a strange pattern, and judging by the dates, there were many, many people killed before old age could claim them. There was no space-port to be found, though there was an airfield with craft capable of in atmospheric flight. Even if they did seem quite primitive. There were even a few scattered individuals with bionic augmentation or replacement parts. She didn't understand how a place without a space-port could have effective cybernetic replacements, though there were a few unfortunate patchworks that suggested that the skill of their doctors was quite lacking.

She also discovered that the world seemed to have recently become infested with strange, often horrible creatures, many of which showed a definite tendency of predatory behavior. She was attacked several more times, though most of them were willing to admit defeat and fled to seek easier prey. She made a point of trying to kill all the ones that smelled of blood, decay and evil, like the man with the yellow eyes that had attacked her. That might have made the city some small degree safer for the inhabitants, but it was still utter confusion. There were scattered individual of so many other races, so many different types of being, many of which she had no name for. She did see a couple wretched mummies, though they seemed to lack the power and speed of Mum-Ra.

She just had no idea how so many different non-humans could be here without a space-port. Had there once been a space-port that had been destroyed, leaving the world populated by the descendants of the crashed ships, then there would be less variation, and more than one or two of the various other types. It just didn't make any sense to her.

"I'm wasting time," she murmured to herself. All her running around had left her muscles burning, and she needed to rest soon. "One of the few things I am certain of is that this town is dangerous, and I need to rest."

Cheetara had searched the whole town, which had signs that she could barely read, some of which proclaimed the town to be Sunnydale. The written language of this place was a bit different than the Galactic Standard. More interesting was the place called Sunnydale Zoo, with an assortment of animals in enclosures, presumably for the education of the public. Some of them seemed almost familiar, similar to the totems of the Thunderran Noble Houses.

With some reluctance, Cheetara left the Zoo. Perhaps when she had a better idea of how she'd arrived here, she could return and look at the totem animals again. In the distance, she could hear lupine howls, and she could feel herself shiver. There were old stories about lupine invaders, savage brutes that had attacked, ripping into the Thunderran peasantry with their jagged teeth, looting and pillaging before leaving again in their silvery ships. It had been part of what made the early contacts with the mutates so disturbing.

The next set of howls seemed even closer.

"I need to get somewhere safe, somewhere sheltered and defensible," she murmured. One hand gripped her staff, and she figured that between her training and her speed, she could easily take a lupine if one attacked her. But the problem was, there had been more than one howl. One lupine, she could defeat, but a pack would be too many. At best, she would be ripped apart by savage fangs and claws. At worst… well, she suspected that their ideas might match that rude yellow-eyed man who'd fallen to dust.

She got attacked by a pair of those yellow-eyed dead people in a park. This took a little more fighting to get rid of them, and one of them called her something, but she had no idea what the word 'cheerleader' meant, or what manner of insult it might be. The long nails of the first one had left several scratches on her arm, not very deep, but enough to sting. She couldn't help but wish for some antibiotics to smear over them, unwilling to dwell on what sort of bacterial filth might have encrusted those jagged nails. She also suspected that the scent of blood in the air might be unhealthy in this chaotic mess.

She ended up retreating to a small cave near the beach. It wasn't much, but it felt slightly more defensible than any of the buildings, and it was small enough that she could be certain that she was alone in the cave, and there was only one way for anything else to enter. She hadn't been able to contact anybody that she knew. She could only hope that things would be better in the morning.

End part 5.

Cordelia Chase blinked, her whole body aching. She was leaning against a rock, in a cave, with sand and sand-grit muck on the bottom of the cave. She was certain that she'd managed to get both of them in her hair along with the awful cigarette smoke, and the two colors of horrible hairspray, and… And why was she in a cave anyhow?

Images came crashing back, of monsters, of people with gleaming metal arms and red eyes, of people with fur that moved too fluidly to be a bad costume and ears on the tops of their heads that twitched. Of vampires lunging at her in the darkness, and of herself spinning and kicking, clawing and shoving her staff between their ribs, twisting out of the way of the gritty dust that they'd become. Memories of moving impossibly fast through the town looking for a space-port.

Memories of being Cheetara, noble woman of Thunderra.

She moved towards the mouth of the cave, noticing as she put her hand on a stone that her nails looked longer, sharper than she remembered. That they looked like claws. "Oh my God…." Cordelia whispered. "This isn't real, it can't be happening…"

Except that her voice sounded just a little different. A little throatier, more like Eartha Kitt, with just a tiny hiss on the s. Her teeth had kept that slight point that she'd decided added to the whole cat-person look.

She wasn't wearing tights anymore. Instead of the bodysuit that she'd added a few more spots to last night, the spots seemed to be on her skin, and she was wearing a leotard, with the boots and the gloves, and a gleaming red jewel with the cat-insignia of Thunderra. She had claws now. And her ears had changed, no longer normal human ears with fake points glued on, the points were real, though they seemed a bit more delicate than before.

"So much for getting the deposit back. Now where's my car? Is it still outside the place for Devon's party?"

No sooner had she decided to go investigate than she found herself leaping from the cave, springing from her crouched landing on the sand to a run towards the middle of town that would make the track team lay down and weep. Faster than she'd though possible, faster than a cheetah, faster than a car.

As fast as… as fast as Cheetara.

Her costume had stuck. Not only that, but it seemed to have become a little more than a costume. Pointed ears and teeth. Claws. Spots on her legs. She found herself hoping that the orange around her eyes was make-up instead of natural coloration. At least she had the speed and the knowledge of how to fight.

Her car was still there. She even still had the keys. As she slid behind the wheel, part of her felt awkward and uncertain, whispering that this machine was so primitive… Another part was caught by her reflection in the mirror. Most of the orange that had formed the mask-like pattern around her eyes had been smeared away, but her eyes were still a bold orange, with the slit pupils. Thundercat eyes.

"Colored contacts and hair dye… I don't know what I can do about the spots, maybe concealer?" Cordelia murmured, trying to figure out how she could hide this.

As she drove herself home, she found herself wondering just how much of Cheetara had remained. Would she have all the memories of a Thunderran Noble? Would she have the Sight Beyond Sight? Considering what she already knew of this horrible town, that wasn't something that she intended to check in Sunnydale.

The biggest question was – why had she changed last night? How many other people had changed? Was she now the only Thunderran? Cordelia didn't have answers to those questions. But she had an idea where to start looking.

end part 6.

End Mutated Halloween 3: Landing on Her Feet


End file.
